Happily Ever After? (Sleeping Handsome Sequel)

by Jean Haus

  Suddenly Zoe with her nonstop chatter comes to my mind. Or maybe it’s the thought of rumors. I grab my hotel key and slip it into my back pocket before I race out the door. Zoe filling my head with useless rumors sounds good. As long as they’re not about me.

  Zoe’s brow rises when she opens the door. “Hello darling. Come in,” she says, stepping to the side. She tilts her chin and gives me a questioning look. “I’m surprised you’re not out with Bret.”

  I almost turn around and go back to my room without saying anything. Instead, I breeze past her. “Why would I be out with Bret?”

  She gestures for me to sit in the small sitting area and the multitude of bracelets on her arm tinkles. “Come now, Paige. Everyone’s aware you two have become an item.”

  “An item?” I plop down on a fluffy chair. “Is that what nothing is called?”

  Her brow rises again as she sits at the end of the couch nearest to me. “Oh no. He made his little ‘Dating Me Will Hold Your Career Back’ speech didn’t he?”

  It takes me a few seconds to register her meaning. Bret’s assholeness goes up a notch. “Um no. He just—he just…” I feel tears coming. When I walked into her room, I planned to be strong and refute all the rumors, but I can’t keep myself glued together. “My boyfriend…” I say in a sob and cover my face.

  “Why can’t that man leave the young ones alone?” she snaps. With hands still pressed to my face, I hear the swish of her long dress moving. Then I feel her fingers pressing a Kleenex in my hand. Geez, I should buy stock in Kleenex. She pats my hand. “I know he’s handsome and charming but trust me, he’s really not worth your tears.”

  Looking up through a blur, I moan, “He’s worth everything to me.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Oh to be blind and young again.”

  I wipe my eyes then blow my nose. She waits with a calm expression.

  “Look Paige, Bret’s a pretty piece, but he’s rather… dull inside. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you’ll get over him.” She reaches for the teakettle waiting on the coffee table.

  It finally dawns on me she thinks I’m crying over Bret. As if.

  “Here,” she says, handing me a cup. “Green tea is both calming and good for your metabolism.”

  I snatch the cup from her fingers. “I’m not crying over Bret.” I take a swallow of the tea and almost spit it out. It tastes like swamp water.

  Her overly plucked eyebrows rise higher than before and her teacup pauses in the air.

  I set my cup on the table with a clunk. “Nothing, well pretty much nothing, happened between us. I thought we were friends. I was wrong about that. He’s just a douche-bag-wanna-be-seducer.”

  “So you and Bret never—”

  “Ugh. No. He tried to kiss me and that’s about it.”

  “The pictures?” she asks then finally takes a sip of her tea.

  Does this woman peruse the Internet for rumors? “We were just friends,” I snap. “Or so I thought.”

  Her expression becomes perplexed. “So you’re crying because…”

  “My boyfriend,” I say, miserably.

  She gently sets her cup on the table. “Ah, he saw the pictures.”

  “Something like that.”

  “And broke up with you.”

  My lip quivers. “Not officially yet.”

  “Perhaps darling, if he doesn’t believe you then he’s not worth it.”

  I let out a sigh. “He believes me.”

  “Then why—”

  “It’s complicated. He’s angry and…hurt.” The last word is a revelation to me. Beyond Zach’s anger, I kind of knew this, but saying it aloud somehow helps me recognize it fully. Helps me see his response comes more from pain rather than fury or jealousy. “I hurt him.”

  She nods. “A man’s wounded pride is a violate force.”

  I shake my head. “It’s more about us. About trust and honesty.” Another revelation hits me. “It’s about a person mattering so much you think about how your actions are going to affect them. I—I didn’t do that.”

  She watches me before saying, “You really love this boy, don’t you?”

  I swallow past the lump in my throat then nod.

  She pats my arm. “People make mistakes.”

  Looking away from her purple-lipped smile, I mumble, “Some mistakes cost everything.”

  ~14~

  Zach

  I finally forced myself to get a new phone. Like I had the extra money. Once connected, I wasn’t surprised to see several texts from Paige. I just don’t know how to answer them. Though it’s stupid, I’m stuck in my anger. I’m in a frozen prison of fury. And I can’t see clearly beyond the walls of my rage.

  Paige has become a mirage.

  Right now, I sit on the miniscule balcony off the living room and watch two kids throw a football across the expanse of lawn next to the parking lot. I recall being twelve. I remember when life was simple. Not so damn confusing.

  The glass door slides open. Drake collapses next to me in the other lawn chair. “Amanda didn’t show up for work again. Three days is a definite fire.”

  I cross my arms and look out over the parked cars. “I don’t give a shit about Amanda.”

  “Maybe people will quit dissing you about those online pictures of Paige and that guy with Amanda gone.”

  My arms tighten. “I don’t give a shit what anyone at work thinks.”

  “Bro, you have got to quit moping. You’re killing me.”

  I glance over at him. “What the hell is on your head?”

  “It’s a fedora.” His fingers slide along the brim of the plaid hat then fan the feather stuck to the side. “It’s my pimp hat.”

  “It’s stupid.”

  “You’re just trying to change the subject.”

  “And you need to put on some pants.”

  “Boxers are pants. Just the most basic form. Again, when are you going to get over this Paige stuff?”

  I shrug. It doesn’t feel like that’s going to happen anytime soon.

  “I could put the pimp hat to the test and bring some hotties home.”

  Like mindless sex is going to straighten me out. Like I’d even want to touch another girl. “I could shove my foot up your ass.”

  “Knew that one would piss you off. Just because you got several inches on my five ten and maybe forty pounds of muscle,” he says, standing and flexing in various ways. “You can’t overcome this lean, mean fighting machine.”

  “You should go back to your video game.”

  He flexes an arm muscle and looks at his wrist. “What time is it you ask?” He flexes his other arm and again pretends to look at a watch. “Not time to desert my bro to his love sick depression.”

  “Drake…”

  He drops back into the chair. “Either you love her and forgive her.” He slaps his knee to enunciate each word. “Or you don’t love her enough for forgiveness. Which is it?”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  He crosses his ankles and sets his bare feet on the rail. “Oh, I think it is.”

  This coming from a guy who’s too scared to even date. “Go back to your video games,” I growl.

  He lowers his hat over his eyes. “No can do. I know what you’re thinking. The king of hookups doesn’t know shit about dating. And you may be right. But even I can see what’s in front of my face. You love her. So get on with it.”

  “Did you know dickweed, hook up loser it takes two people to make a relationship work?”

  “So you don’t think Paige loves you? Because the other day you were positive those pictures were totally innocent.”

  I rub the bridge of my nose. “You are such a simple minded fool.”

  “Bro, just tell me what you think.”

  I let out a sigh. “I think she still loves me.”

  “Then what is the problem?”

  Anger wells in my chest. “She fucked up. What she did was not only beyond disrespectful, she did it while worrying I was doing
the same damn thing. Except I didn’t hang out with Amanda twenty-four-seven. She hung out with that asshole every day. Let him in her hotel room.”

  The balcony is quiet until he says, “I don’t get it.”

  “What the hell don’t you get, Drake?”

  “Do you expect her to be perfect or something?”

  I blink at him. Is that what I expect?

  He pushes his hat up. “I don’t get something else either?”

  “What?” I snap.

  “I thought love—not talking first hand here—was supposed to be about looking past someone’s faults, past their mistakes, and all that mushy stuff. So if you guys are so in love…”

  His innocent tone is such a bunch of bull. The little manipulative ass is grinding my conviction in my face. “Go shoot something cyber before you really piss me off and I throw your dickhead hat off the balcony.”

  He stands and raises his hands. “Okay, I’m just saying…”

  “If you say one more damn word—”

  “My mouth is sealed.” He makes the motion of zipping his lips shut and tossing the key. “I’m not talking.” He slides the door open. “I’m not saying anything about you holding a grudge.” He slowly shuts the door. Right before it’s closed he says, “You can’t hear me saying you’re being a dick.”

  Groaning, I rub a hand across my face. Deep down I know Drake has made some valid points. But no matter how hard I try. I can’t let my bitterness go. I want to forgive Paige, but my want can’t seem to conquer the anger. Every time I try, I imagine that asshole kissing her and my head pounds with fury.

  I pull out my phone and type in a text. I’M SORRY. I’M STILL NOT OVER THIS. Then send it to Paige.

  ~15~

  Paige

  The plane is about to land and I’m about to cry again. Zach only sent that one text. Even if we weren’t in the mist of breaking up, he wouldn’t be able to pick me up. He’s working. The thought of being home without us together is killing me. I don’t even want to get off the plane. However, my sister and mother are waiting. My mother insisted on picking me up.

  Sucking it up and controlling my never-ending tears, I give Emily and my mother a long hug. Luckily, we don’t have to wait for my luggage. They shipped it back. Since I’m so quiet on the way home, my mother’s expression turns to worry. Her questions become invading. I lie and say I’m jet lagged. I’m not sure if she buys it, but she drops the questions. Thankfully. I’m not ready to tell her about Zach and me until its official. I’m expecting it will be soon.

  At home, I go to my room and pretend to sleep. I stare at the wall.

  I made a mistake. Okay, lots of mistakes. Zach’s refusal to forgive me has me miserable, but as the days pass, I’m getting angry. There isn’t much he could do that I wouldn’t forgive. His stubbornness is eating at my heart. Making me wonder if he really did love me.

  Ever since our last conversation, I’d been thinking about my career, about how it’s already changed my life. Then on the way home in between flights my agent called sputtering about a Bret Travis interview. Amid my agent’s hysterics, I slowly realized Bret had leaked out how I got the audition. He even insinuated my stepfather’s Hollywood connections got me the job.

  Asshole.

  Standing there in the busy airport while listening to my agent ramble about different ways to counter Bret’s claims, I came to a decision. No Hollywood games. Sure, things like interviews and appearances come with the job, but rumors and backstabbing would be ignored. I’d walked away from those things in high school. I wasn’t about to be pulled into them as an adult. My agent argued we needed to do this, that, and the other. I refused. People are going to hire me because I have talent, not because of my Hollywood reputation. And if not, oh well.

  Done with the call, I recognized something else. I love acting. I’m good at it. And though Zach never asked me to give it up, I’d been seriously considering if an acting career was worth all the complications. It is. I just can’t imagine doing anything else.

  After a few hours of lying in my bed, I take a shower and go visit my family. I’m not going to let my love life, or destruction of it, take a toll on my other relationships.

  Emily and I are playing Super Mario Bros when my phone vibrates in my pocket.

  The text on my phone reads I’M WAITING WHERE WE’RE SUPPOSED TO MEET.

  My heart does a flip then a dive. A meeting could go either way. My fingers hover over my phone until I finally text back BE THERE IN A BIT. I help Emily finish the level we’re on before I grab my keys. I refuse to drop everything after he has ignored me for so long. And I’m so not in a rush to get to my execution.

  I drive slowly. Apprehension has my thumbs tapping the wheel. Besides not having driven in over a month my nerves are in overdrive. Turning onto the dirt lane leading to our look out spot, I’m about to hyperventilate. My teeth gnaw on my bottom lip. I can do this. I can survive without Zach. My world may turn gray and bleak, but I can survive.

  I hope.

  In the dying sunlight, I slowly pull next to his car. Looking out over the twilight valley, he sits with an arm wrapped around his knee on the hood. His comfortable pose doesn’t ease my worry. I take one last deep breath and step out of the car. I feel like I’m stepping into unknown territory. Probably because I am. The last time I broke up with a boyfriend was freshman year. And that was not even close to serious. This is very serious. His verdict has the potential to destroy me.

  “Hello Paige,” Zach says, drops his arm around his knee, and turns to me. “I’ve missed you.”

  In the shadows of sunset, his blue gaze burns into me. I set my hands on the edge of his hood. It’s cool to the touch. He’s been here for a while. “I’ve missed you too,” I somehow respond.

  His eyes slide over me. “You look good.”

  My teeth clench. I could care less how I look. “Um, thanks.”

  He leans closer to me. Part of me wants to lean toward him while the other part of me wants to push away from his car, get in mine, and imagine I never came. The angles of his face soften as he looks at me. “I’m sorry for making you wait. I just needed time.”

  My nails scrape the chipped paint of his hood. I don’t want to hear about time. I just want to know where I stand. Anticipation is not a good thing at this point. “What have you decided?”

  Full masculine lips form a sad smile and my heart almost lurches out of my chest. He looks out over the valley again while I devour his striking profile. For the last time? His chest rises in a deep breath. “I’ve been an ass. I screwed up. You screwed up, but I should have forgiven you right away.” His gaze comes back to mine. “It shouldn’t have taken me so long to get over my anger.”

  Relief doesn’t come. I want to cry. His words are the words I’ve been longing to hear, but they’re not enough. My hands press against the metal of his chipped hood. My fingers turn white from the pressure. Although indignation knots in my throat, I calmly say, “In this business…” I lift my chin, hold the anger at bay, and just spit reality out. “I’m going to screw up again. Probably not like that but something else.”

  The muscles of his face tighten as he slowly nods. “Drake said something the other day…I think I’ve put you on pedestal. I expected you to be perfect. I imagined you were.” He shakes his head. “But I don’t want the girl in my imagination, I want the real you. Because I’m not in love with that imaginary girl. I’m in love with you.” His gaze burns into me again. “I’m sorry for expecting too much.”

  His words—especially those of love—warm me inside, try to melt my bitterness, and help me understand his actions to a point since I’m definitely not perfect. Yet, the anger floating under the edge of my pretend calmness pulsates. “I understand I hurt you. I never wanted to do that. But you’ve ignored me for an entire week and now I’m hurt.” Standing in front of him, I feel raw and bruised. All the tears I cried over the last week seem to flow between us.

  “I was afraid of that when I came
to my senses.” He scoots closer to me. I step back. “Paige, I made a mistake too. Can’t you forgive me?”

  I can’t help but scowl. Of course the smart ass, I mean that in both ways, would twist it around. And he’s right. If he can forgive me, shouldn’t I be able to forgive him? The misery of the last seven days doesn’t agree.

  He holds out his hand. “Please forgive me.”

  I want to take his hand. Just the memory of his skin enclosed around mine has my palm tingling. Yet those tears between us hold me back. I never want to feel the aching pain or the loneliness of the last week again.

  His eyes turn imploring, reminding me of everything we’ve been.

  I take a deep breath and try to let the resentment inside out with an exhale. He’s not perfect. I’m not perfect. Are we perfect together? I know love is more than the adoration of his blue eyes, more than his lips on the skin behind my ear, or more than the butterflies in my stomach when he’s close. Its trust and sacrifice and yes, forgiveness. Do I love him enough to forgive him?

  His eyes plead. His hand waits.

  There’s really only one way I can answer. With my heart. I put my hand in his. He grabs my other one and gently lifts me onto the hood. “I’ve been dying each second sitting here and waiting for you,” he says against the skin of my neck. “Thinking you might not forgive me, I wanted to kick my own ass.”

  In his arms, bitterness finally floats out of me and I feel free. Free of anger and misery. Surrounded by the wonderful smell of him and feeling more content than I have in a month, I let out a chuckle within a sigh.

  He pulls back and runs a hand through my hair before holding my jaw. His blue eyes bore into mine. “I don’t want to let other people or jealousy or anger or anything come between us ever again. But like you, I’m not perfect. However, I can promise I’ll never turn my back on you again.”

  I wrap my arms around his neck. This is where I belong. Even with the recent heartache, I’ll always belong in his arms. Even if everything isn’t always perfect. “I can live and love with that.” I tug him closer. “I just want a perfect kiss.”